Mitchell: All right. Where should we put Mom? Uh, not too close to the window. Don't want to spend the next years whispering.
Cameron: Okay, so, your mom can be a tree, but when I told you my Uncle Honus fell into a thresher and the next spring, an owl appeared with his exact face and pocket watch, you poo-pooed it.
Mitchell: Why are you being so difficult?
Cameron: Because when we first got together, you promised that someday we would move back to my family farm, and every year, the someday gets kicked further down the road like a nosy census taker.